


Wash me White as Snow (and I will be Made Whole)

by Anonymous



Category: Captain America, Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, Steve Angst, Steve Feels, Winter fic, and Tony sort of makes it better, sort of christmas fic?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-27
Updated: 2013-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-27 04:36:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/658078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve sighed, and briefly thought about how miserable winters were in the 1940's. They weren't any different now, just a different sort of misery, he supposed. He pressed a gentle hand against the windowpane and the cold settled into his fingertips.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wash me White as Snow (and I will be Made Whole)

Steve watched as flurries of snow whooshed past the window, drifting to the busy streets below. People on the street huddle into their coats, or into each other, pulling hats down low over their foreheads. The tower was silent today-- Bruce was gone on one of his trips to somewhere in the middle of nowhere, and Clint and Natasha were back working with SHIELD. And Tony, Tony of course was probably somewhere cooped up in his lab. Steve sighed, and briefly thought about how miserable winters were in the 1940's. They weren't any different now, just a different sort of misery, he supposed. He pressed a gentle hand against the windowpane and the cold settled into his fingertips.

 

His breath fogged the glass, turning it opaque before he wiped the condensation away. It formed again, regenerating, constantly clouding the glass until Steve just let it take over, his breath ghosting against the window and keeping it blurry. He could still see the outlines of people moving along the street, but now they were just distant shapes and colors, undefined, unconnected to him.

 

He sighed and turned away, opting instead to press the side of his face against the cool planes and looking into the expanse of the living room. Besides the occasional coffee mug here and there it was pristine, like it had come directly out of an interior designer magazine. A long time ago, Steve would have been fascinated with the modern architecture and strange, irregular designs of the art in the room, but no longer. It was just another reminder of what he didn’t understand.

 

Steve wasn’t tired, but he wished he were.

 

Time trickled by slowly, and Steve thought it was ironic how time could pass by with a blink of an eye, and how it also passes by torturously slowly, like in each second there was a minute. The second hand of the clock on the mantle mocked him as it moved slowly in a circle, taking its time.

 

The tower stayed silent.

 

Steve thought of what him and his mother would have been doing, before she died, on a day like this. She would have made him soup and made him drink it, telling him he needed to keep himself from getting sick. She would have buzzed around their tiny kitchen, humming some tune that had played on the radio, sweeping the floor, washing the dishes, infusing the cold with her warm cheerfulness and love…

 

Steve thought of what he and Bucky would have been doing on a day like this. No doubt outside, throwing a snowball fight with some of the other boys in the neighborhood. Bucky probably would have insisted on being with Steve to even out the odds, and Steve wouldn’t have even be able to find it in himself to complain; Bucky would have had perfect aim, nailing the other boys in the face again and again, until the whole lot of them had ganged up against them both, and then Bucky and Steve would have made a run for it, laughing the entire time…

 

Steve thought of what he and Peggy would have been doing, if Steve hadn’t…

“Hey.”

 

Steve startled out of his reverie, turning his head around to see a very rumpled looking Tony standing by the entrance to the living room.

 

“Hey.”

 

Steve turned back to press his face to the window as Tony walked into the kitchen and rinsed out his mug, the coffee machine gurgling as Tony made a second cup. Steve sighed, pressing the heel of his hand against an eye. Maybe he could go workout, or go find some place to volunteer in the city somewhere…do something.

 

Tony padded quietly back into the living room, leaning against the wall as he watched Steve run a weary hand through his blond hair. He looked exhausted and defeated, the pale light from the setting sun shining in through the window and casting long shadows on his face. He was tired, and there was something distinctly painful about the way his broad shoulders hunched inwards, like he was scared to let something go, like he was scared to let anyone in. Tony knew what it was like, even if he hadn’t been the one to wake up 70 years in the future.

 

“Hey,” Tony said quietly, waiting as Steve raised his head to look up at him. “Wanna come down to the lab and help me with some stuff? I would have my ‘bots do it, but the parts I’m using are pretty heavy, I could use someone to help me with the heavy lifting,” Tony offered.

 

Steve gave him a slightly confused look. Tony had designed bots before that could lift thousands of tons of metal. Tony had designed JARVIS for god’s sake, there was no way he couldn’t have designed a robot that could do some heavy lifting-

 

Oh.

 

“Sure. I think I’d like that. I think I’d like that a lot.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Jon Foreman's song White as Snow. I highly recommend the entire album. 
> 
> This is also my first fic in the fandom. Hope it was alright!


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